Redemption
by LostPerspective
Summary: He doesn’t realise, she doesn’t tell. Neither of them knows that they are running out of time." AU- Spoilers up to season 4 finale. Please read and review!


**A/N: This is an old one, I started writing it back in September-ish but never got round to finishing it. So, as far as it goes it is AU, with spoilers up to the end of season four. Thank you to everyone who reviewed my last fic. They make my day! **

**Disclaimer: Nothing is mine.**

When you die, there are no alarms, no bells or claxons to alert you to this fact. Even if you have been forewarned of the fact you are dying, there is no certainty to the day, the hour, the minute. You do not have to cope with your death until the very end, until you feel the life slip from you. It is those you love that carry the burden. They are the ones who hold out hope, of spontaneous remission, a miraculous recovery, until the noise of the flatline rings in their ears and your heart beats for the very last time. They are the ones to feel helpless, lost in a whirl of denial and finally realise there is nothing else to do.

You are the one who dies, but they have to keep on living.

***

The day it happens is an ordinary day. They have a new case, a new lead, a new suspect. Just a day, just like any other.

***

The car ride to the suspect's location is awkward; just like they have been since Booth's brain surgery. His ongoing amnesia still concedes her a mystery, despite having dreamt of her as his partner, lover, **wife**.

After a drunken celebration of a particularly hard case he finds himself kissing her, quickly pulling away when he realises she isn't kissing back. This isn't allowed. Right, yes, but forbidden. She is left frozen in shock. He avoids her eyes for the next few days, an action she is more than happy to reciprocate, in case, he, with all his people skills and intuition could discern that she had liked it. **Loved** it.

He doesn't realise, she doesn't tell.

Neither of them knows that they are running out of time.

***

"Booth?" She asks with her hand on the door handle. Her eyes hold apprehension and fear, this is important, but his amnesia has snatched his ability to read her.

"Yes, Temperance?" The use of her full name, which sounds so wrong coming from his lips after all these years, causes her fear of loss to overcome her hope that he feels this too, and the words forming on her tongue retreat back into her heart.

"Nothing... don't worry." She looks away, and he stares at her for a minute, like he almost recognises her. He looks thoughtful and hopeful and concerned. And then the moment is gone and they are back to being two people who really don't know each other at all.

They step out of the car refusing to acknowledge to growing tension between them.

It all happens too fast.

One bullet tears out a barrel, ripping through air and fabric and flesh.

It pierces a hole and continues to destroy, obliterate organs and heart and _Bones._

Fragmenting and cutting and spiralling. It exits out by her left kidney and continues until all the momentum is gone and it hits the floor, burying in the ground, dirt mingling with the blood encasing it.

Booth has seen a lot of bullets, ones that pierce wooden targets and skulls and have been collected from decomposed remains. But the one that is stained with her blood he doesn't comprehend.

One piece of metal. Produced by the millions every year. Different shapes and size for different guns. How could one destroy so much?

His right arm moves, a reflex born from his years of combat. It spots the target and shoots, a perfect hole through the culprit's heart. A heart for a heart. Redemption. His mind is frozen, numb with shock and denial. He has failed to protect her.

Suddenly he springs into action, gathering his jacket and pressing it to her wound. It is too late, she is already gone. There is nothing left to do but try. So he tries, performing CPR with helpless desperation. He doesn't know what to do, they are the only ones for miles and he has to keep her – alive? breathing? His phone is still in the car, so he grabs hers out her pocket between breaths. It is tucked inside her jacket and he brushes her breast as he reaches in to get it. It feels like a violation of her privacy. It feels wrong. He dials 911, giving location and details in between slamming on her chest frantically trying to get her to just breathe. **Breathe**.

His lips jam onto hers again, pushing life back into her. This isn't how it's supposed to end. Not with her... _dying _and him still frantically trying to grasp onto the concept of who she is.

Next he speed dials one, not caring who it is, just needing some help, some comfort. He hears his phone ring back in the car, and so tries two.

"Bren? I thought you were on a case with Mr FB-Eye Candy?"

"Angela." The word is released on a desperate, hoarse breath.

"Booth?" Angela sounds worried, sensing his fear. He can't answer. He can't describe what is happening.

"Booth? Booth! What's happened?" She is growing hysterical and the guilt mounts. He has broken them all. A centre. A centre and now it is crumbling and soon everything else will too. Their family of utterly crazy squints. He tries to regain composure but it is too much. The death and love and dreams and nightmares he has thought and experienced and those that are happening. It's real. It's too real.

One, two, three, four, five.

Her blood on his hands.

One, two, three, four, five.

Her hand on his heart.

One, two, three, four, five.

His heart and her brain.

One, two, three, four, five.

Overdrive and Bones.

One, two, three, four, five.

Bones and Booth. Anthropology, alpha-males, guns, bullets. Her blood, _everywhere_.

The EMTs arrive. They do their best. It is not enough.

She is gone.

All he has left are memories.

***

Back when he started the job he thought, maybe if he put enough bad guys away, brought enough justice to the world, maybe the death he had brought himself would be cancelled out. But, he realises, things don't work like that. It's not that simple. If there is a cosmic balance sheet, the prices he must pay are much greater. This is his redemption.

**Whoa, that turned out angsty. Review please! **


End file.
